


Masterpiece

by Anonymous



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Foot Massage, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Smut, bottom!John, top!paul
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:07:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27759631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Paul tries to help John with his self-esteem, learns a few things about their relationship, too.
Relationships: John Lennon/Paul McCartney
Comments: 4
Kudos: 53
Collections: Anonymous





	Masterpiece

When Brian announced that he managed to get professional masseurs to relieve their stress, Paul had to resist rolling his eyes. He wasn't interested in any weird exercise as opposed to George who began to mumble about yoga excitedly, and the last drop of enthusiasm was dried by finding out his muscles would be kneaded by men.

It didn't stem from homophobia, after all, he had a passionate affair with his best friend. (And loved that aforementioned best friend, too, but not that either of them would confess.) But take an already unpleasant sensation (in this case: being touched by strangers) and double it up till a physics lesson sounds like a walk in the park. That was the state in which Paul arrived at his and John bedroom to participate in the organised torture. Little did he suspect the grand impression it would leave.

Neither of them a fan of the idea, John and Paul agreed on suffering together, hoping they could joke about it later.

It was a tad bit awkward at first because they had to shrug off their shirts and climb onto their bed, but the men weren't that far away from the Beatles age-wise, and it made it easier for John to crack jokes, easing the tension. 

Paul hummed when the massage began with gentle touches, slowly untangling all the strained muscles. Contrary to his previous worries, the ministrations only confirmed the person definitely knew what they were doing, and I didn't take long for Paul to dive into a slumber. 

Then it started.

A soft sound -- a mixture of sign and a whimper -- reached his eyes. Thinking it was a product of his fogged brain, Paul didn't inspect it further. Then he heard it again, a little louder. He listened carefully, raking his mind for what it reminded him of. 

"Oh."

Nasal voice getting a little higher? Of course. It was John. Enjoying the procedure like a cat receiving a long-awaited petting. Embarrassingly, Paul realised every little sound went straight to his pants if the little twitches signalling the interest of his dick were anything to go by.

Considering interrupting the session to have John right there crossed Paul's mind but he dismissed it for the lack of professionalism. Instead, his strategy was to contain himself and enjoy the rest of the massage. Not the cleverest of his moves.

Another not very thoughtful step was turning his head right and seeing John. The scene oozed sensuality despite the lack of details (not like Paul's dick needed a renaissance painting anyway). He could see John's pale skin, recalled its softness, the way he would squirm when Paul's tongue explored his body...and it was enough for him to get hard, the expensive duvets adding to the sensation. Consequently, the rest of the massage resembled torture, and he invested a great effort not to moan or let his primal instincts take over.

Somehow, he got released while John was undergoing a rather intense procedure of having his neck muscles thoroughly squeezed. Paul slowly sat up, his head fuzzy, and readjusted the annoying erection. Then glanced at John one more time.

Big mistake. John let the other man manoeuvre him, turning into a soft puddle. Paul's tongue lay heavy in his mouth as he slipped on the shirt and went to the bathroom to stick his head under the stream of cold water.

When he reappeared, there was only John, sat at the edge of the bed and shirtless. Paul took in the blush contrasting the fair skin, let his eyes linger on the pink nipples, so prominent on John's hairless chest, then salivated at the mellow curve of John's belly. At least John was wearing trousers, otherwise Paul wouldn't let him do anything unless he could feel the softness of those glorious thighs...and now he was getting hot under the collar again.

The hunger must flick in his eyes because John's cheeks flushed even more and he jolted up to cover himself. Paul opened his mouth to dismiss the anxiety, familiar with the complexity of John's self-esteem, but there was a sharp knock on the door before Brian emerged, eager to know what their experience was like.

Paul's dreams were full of milky skin and gorgeous brown eyes.

***

But then the stupid article came, bashing the rest of John's confidence, resulting in John avoiding every hint of intimacy. Paul gave him space, what else he could do when John turned his anger at him whenever he got too close. And waited.

One evening, after a particularly successful show, Paul noticed how well John's body filled the suit all of them were wearing. The fabric of trousers stretched across his thighs and firm arse, with the jacket hugging his shoulders, the unbuttoned shirt accentuating the curve of his waist. Paul loved it. Couldn't get enough of how broad and strong John looked, wanted to touch him till he purred and unfolded in front of him, not hiding the vulnerable side. But John only smiled at him from a distance, a tight-lipped gesture, and Paul didn't do anything.

He already gave up by the time they entered their room, both men silent and seemingly tired. There was ruffling and shuffling as they prepared for the night before John wordlessly got up and trod to the bathroom.

Fed up with their inability to talk, Paul followed him, tiptoeing not to startle John with confrontation. He wanted to speak up, clearly and loudly, so his words couldn't be deformed by the stinging thoughts in John's head, but he lingered at the door frame instead, watching.

John was staring at his reflection, immovable, eyes narrowed as if he was forced to watch a giant spider. The barrier fell when he touched his cheek, presumably to make sure it was him, before turning into a sad little boy.

"I need to lose weight," he whispered, not breaking eye contact with the mirror. And that broke the dam. 

Paul strode forward till he could hug John's form, feel his back flush against his chest, not giving John a chance to express his shock or wiggle out.

"You only need to stop believing those stupid tabloids." 

The words were murmured into John's ear with a quiet voice dripping with urgency. John didn't move, didn't avert his eyes, but they no longer pierced his own body, they were directed at Paul's face.

"I..." John snapped back into his witty suit, forcing a hollow laugh and tapping Paul's fingers. "Right, I need to brush me teeth now, if you allow me." In reply Paul only tightened the hold on John's body, hands caressing his stomach and sides, enjoying the warmth radiating through the clothes. "I'm not letting you go, John."

He ignored the way John squirmed, trying to escape, watched intently the various emotions displayed on his face, and waited for John to calm down. The 'putting up a tough front' strategy would work with someone strange, someone who didn't see John after his mum's death or didn't love him, but its magic didn't reach Paul. Finally, everything stilled, John's face vacant of any colour, panicking eyes darting everywhere desperate to ground himself.

"Why are you doing this, Johnny?" Paul enquired, lips touching the tender skin of John's neck. "Such a beautiful, beautiful boy." He trailed his kisses down then gently turned John around, trapping him against the sink.

The magic of the mirror vanishing, John finally broke the eye contact, his Adam's apple bobbing anxiously. Paul frowned when he realised John hadn't touched him, his hands, such mesmerising hands, dangling awkwardly by his side. "Come on, love, look at me, please." He tried, bringing his forefinger under John's chin to tilt it. 

John obliged, gazing at him with wide eyes and a tremble to his breath. "D-don't call me that." He barked.

Paul merely stepped closer, determined to not let John collapse. "Call you what? Love? Beautiful? Pretty hard innit, when I can't even look at you without realising how much I love you, hmm? Do you want me to lie, John? To act like I don't give a fuck, so you could believe it and continue hurting yourself? " 

John shook his head, a tiny, almost unnoticeable movement, but Paul cherished it as the biggest achievement. His left hand raised up, fingers tickling John's cheek before he pressed the palm down, cupping it. John didn't flinch this time, inadvertently pressing back. "Good," Paul muttered, cursing himself for not doing something earlier. They stayed like that, their personal spaces mingling. Paul observed John's face, the slope of his nose, the closed eyes under bushy eyebrows, the wonderful line of his lips... didn't think twice before pecking him. A tender, healing kiss on the mouth, followed by one on the forehead. Then both temples, cheeks, the outline of John's jaw and back to the lips. 

To his delight, John reciprocated, pressing against him, one hand coming to rest on Paul's hip, the other tangling itself into the dark hair. The pleasure was tickling Paul's spine, enhancing the reality of John signing into his mouth, rough lips gliding over his own, maddening. Then his own pleasure voiced a low moan, just as John licked into his mouth. It felt nice, but when John reached between them to adjust Paul straining erection, he realised it wasn't something he craved.

The kiss slowed into a chain of little nips, and Paul languidly backed off to observe his lover. John followed him with his eyes shut, huffing when Paul didn't meet his demand. It was odd how quickly he went from walking despair to a horny teenage boy, and Paul feared it could be the same coping system -- different on the surface, yet fueled by the same want not to feel the pain. 

"Want to have you." He confessed, fingers brushing the fringe out of John's eyes. 

"Have me." John breathed, trying to bring their hips together.

"Not like that, John. Not like, it-it's some quick fling. I want to hav-see you. In bed, not chasing the release, but seeing you. Just you." 

"Okay," John cleared his throat, feigning nonchalance. "You can see me." 

It became painfully obvious that he hadn't really believed Paul's words, once they reached one of the beds. His movements grew more and more reckless, trying to shift the focus on Paul's dick. Without success, as Paul always pried the curious hands away and resumed the gentle touches till John lay on his back.

"Y-you sure you want to see mE?" He pressed the issue, supporting himself on his elbows to glare at his boyfriend between his legs as soon as Paul untucked John's shirt from the trousers.

"Positive," Paul retorted, fingers grazing the skin just about John's waistband.

"Because I wouldn't min-I don't mind if-".

"John!" Paul raised his voice, venturing under the waistband this time. 

John swallowed other words of protest. And Paul turned his attention to the interfering pair of pants, dragging down the zipper and sliding them off. It seemed to take John's mind off the discomfort of being exposed, especially when Paul accidentally brushed against the bulge stretching John's boxers.

After discarding the garment, Paul contemplated his next move. In other circumstances, he would focus on their pleasure, trying to get both of them off at rapid speed but that night he only noticed his own cock pressing against the fabric of his slack when he moved too quickly. He decided to get rid of them, too, and with just his briefs on returned his hand to John's shirt, popping two lower buttons from their holes.

"Paul? The lights..." John trailed off, commenting on the predicament of the fully lit room.

Silently, Paul climbed off the bed, turned off the pompous chandelier and switched on the standing lamp next to the bed. The scene looked even more intimate, creating an illusion of nothing else existing beside them. The warm glow caressed John's curves and edges as if he was a piece of art. And for what Paul knew he was, a greatly complicated masterpiece.

"I don't like the lamp." John deadpanned, eyes trained on the ceiling as he drew the shirt down to cover the glimpse of his belly. "'S too bright for my taste."

"Yeah?" Paul threw back, stubbornly popping another button and hiking the shirt up a little higher than before. With a palm firmly splayed over the warm skin he added. "Makes you look even more gorgeous, you know, freckles and red hair, exactly my type."

"I'm not a redhead!" John rushed to correct him.

"Whatever, it stays on!"

"Don't say I didn't warn-AH-"

Paul decided to put a stop to their bickering, pressing his lips to John's abdomen, tongue darting out to taste the skin. He used his hands to hold John's hips, had to, because the other man tried to thrash around. It only encouraged Paul to straddle him, fingers working on the remaining buttons till everything -- John's chest, tummy, sides, shoulders -- was on display.

He mapped the freshly bared skin, long strokes of a warm hand, taking his time and waiting for John's rapid breathing to calm down. 

"That's it, Johnny, deep breaths, it's just me, yeah? And I adore you, such a handsome, beautiful man. Can we get rid of the shirt now?"

John remained quiet but didn't put up a fight when Paul slid it off his shoulder, merely lifting his torso to make it easier. For the first time in months he didn't cover himself or turn off every light available. 

"Perfect, Johnny, thank you." Paul cooed in awe. "Can I touch you now?" 

He patiently waited for John to nod before smacking their lips together. He enjoyed the surprised gasp John emitted. Gradually, Paul's head dipped lower when John couldn't keep up, the kiss turning into a sloppy collision with each groan. He sucked a few marks on John's neck, spending a good amount of time at the juncture of his shoulder before heading to his chest, leaving a wet trail behind. Suckling wetly on one pink numb, Paul's fingers rubbed the other till it hardened under his calloused fingertips. When he switched it up to divide the attention evenly, John let out a string of signs, a mix of contentment and pleasure, reminding Paul of that sodden massage that started it all. Spurred on, his teeth grazed the pebbled nipple till he noticed the change in the tone of John's grunts. He gazed up, grinned, and continued.

John's skin smelled like honey even after hours of running around, he mouthed at every crevice, inching to his favourite body part. 

John froze again, every sound cut short as Paul reached his stomach not ceasing the stream of affection. The softness of the skin was indescribable as it rubbed against Paul's cheek and when he gripped the tender flesh with his fingers, John finally let out a hum. Not to tell him to stop, or to pretend he enjoyed it, but out of pleasure. It dawned on Paul John hadn't received much physical affection lately, not even from women because he excused himself from every fancy party. Guilt settled in Paul's stomach again, for not doing anything sooner. He chose not to dwell on the past in favour of showing John that he was there, would always be there to touch, kiss and hold him.

When he was satisfied with the exploration, a dainty hand wiping his mouth, Paul's eyes darkened when he prepared his next move. He did squeeze John's cock trapped in his underwear, yes, but immediately continued lower and lower, till he reached the edge of the bed.

He soothed a questioning babble from John who didn't like the lack of stimulation once he achieved it with a fleeting kiss to his knee. What he was about to do was something new, something he always let John do but never showed any interest in till now. 

He cradled John's leg, lifting it up by the joint of his knee, then kissed his ankle.

"EheHe?" John jolted, provoking a laugh from Paul, before he kissed down John's heel, then covered the entire sole with smooches, pulling back to observe it. It didn't feel gross, intimate maybe. He sucked on every toe, trying to pull different sounds of John each time. The rapid intake of breath followed by 'Paul?' belonged to his favourites. 

Repeating the action on the other limb, Paul kissed up to John's knee, biting there. He was torn between dragging it on forever and rushing to John's thighs.

Sufficient to say, he could never resist those cracking legs. The skin was even softer than on John's belly and. SO. MUCH. SENSITIVE. 

He scraped it with teeth, then eased the sting with the touch of his tongue, Paul's fingers kept John's legs open as his mouth paid special attention to the skin between his crotch and inner thighs. 

John tried to alert him to the situation happening inches away with little whimpers then in true Lennon's fashion tugged harshly at Paul's hair. 

"Y-you" He panted, free of any stimulation for the first time in the last thirty minutes.

"Me," Paul repeated amusedly, enjoying the state he managed to get the witty writer in. "I know, I know," he added when John stared at him like a cat expecting a snack.

Of course, he knew. The tented fabric of John's drawers couldn't be easily ignored. He observed it closely, smiling when he noticed it was damp with precome. 

The idea of teasing John some more taunted him, but, frankly, he wanted to hear him coming undone. The boxers were tossed to the ground, earning Paul a beautiful drawn-out mewl when John's cock slapped against his belly.

A comical moment followed because Paul remembered the lack of lube and had to rummage through their suitcases, while John entertained himself with grumpy gibbering, threatening to destroy the sensual atmosphere Paul had worked on.

Reminded of his goal, Paul sprinted back, immediately licking a long stripe of John's shaft before suckling the mushy head into his mouth. The stimulation was enough to cut off John's complaints. Especially when Paul sneaked a finger to his perineum, rubbing the little patch of skin as a warm-up. When he could sense John's muscles tensing, he released John's dick with a wet plop, loosely encircling it with his hand as he focused on spreading the lube around John's entrance. 

The romantic part of him relished the closeness, briefly taking him back to Hamburg when they did it for the first time in Astrid's flat -- in shadows, rushing to have the experience rather than have the other person, the embarrassment lingering in the back of their heads... Paul wasn't sure whether John recognised the change over the years. Decided to make sure he would.

"You are beautiful, John, like a piece of art, you are." 

The wet sounds of his fingers stretching him scented the words with an obscene perfume but since John didn't interrupt him, Paul knew it had to sink in, hoped so. They always needed a bit of dirt to let their feelings shine.

Adding a third finger, Paul finally located the sweet spot, lack of practice complicating it. However, John's moans filling the room was the only motivation he needed to press it every time. "There?" He rasped, watching his fingers disappearing and trying not to think about how John would feel around his cock. 

To make it even more enjoyable, Paul's hand started to whack John off, spreading drops of precum that rolled down from the slit. John didn't get a moment to recover, moan after moan escaping his throat. Paul realised he wouldn't mind making him come just with his fingers. 

Except for John begged to differ.

"Fuc-fuck me!" He groaned through his teeth, voice coarse as he spread his legs invitingly.

"You sure?" Paul asked, slowing down, watching the flush on John's chest, then met the almond-shaped eyes. John was more than sure.

He hastily undressed, wanting to feel John's skin against his, throwing his head back when he finally stroked his own swelled member. John reached to help him with the condom, but Paul kissed his hands, taking care of it himself after he put a pillow under John's plushy bum.

  
Lifting John's legs, Paul inched closer till the tip of his cock touched the puckered rim. When he finally pushed in both of them groaned at the feeling, being on the smaller side allowed Paul to move smoothly, sparing John from pain. Nevertheless, he moved carefully, holding still once fully in, John's velvety insides squeezing him. After the other man hummed, something they had done since the first time, Paul retreated back a little, then rocked back. 

It took a while till he was able to pull back almost completely, but as soon as he managed that Paul searched for the magical spot. Grinned when John's head started to roll from side to side, a faint mewl falling from his lips. 

Paul knew he wouldn't last long, the rush of finally having John, his John, making it very difficult to resist the knot in his stomach. The tempo of if his thrusts quickened as Paul's hand shot to John's dick, teasing it in sync with his pounding.

John's hips were rolling against Paul's, frantic movements accompanied by indecipherable whispers. Paul squeezed him one more time, roughly hitting his prostrate again, and John was coming, white stripes covering their bodies, his face contorted in pleasure.

The contractions of John's orgasm pushed Paul over, literally, as he tumbled forward, not ceasing the movement. His lips mouthed at John's neck, vaguely registering the sounds of their flesh, his own raspy groan as he climaxed. 

***

Blinking, Paul woke up from the darkness, his lashes tickling John's chest. He felt exhausted in a pleasant way, John's hands rubbing his back as he planted light kisses to his hair. "Better than any gig," Paul mused. 

"No offence, but yer heavy. And still up to my arse." 

"Ah, yeah. Sorry," Paul dragged out, rolling away. Instead of lazying around, he continued to the bathroom, reappearing with a damp towel to help John. Who used his absence to turn off the lamp. Again.

"Nice try," Paul commented, switching it on.

John lay motionless, resembling those bugs pretending they are dead to avoid being eaten. Paul climbed back, kissing John's knee before thoroughly cleaning him. He made sure to touch him tenderly, professing his admiration. His movements didn't stop then, continued with opening a can of John's body lotion to dab it at all his dry spots. Ignoring John's piercing gaze, the one he had inherited from Mimi, Paul scanned the room for John's pyjamas. 

John broke the silence after Paul slipped into his own nightwear, sitting at the edge of the bed not to frighten John with his presence. 

"We aren't-I mean this is not...you aren't breaking up with me, are you?"

"What do you mean?" The fuzzy feeling after a good shag subdued after those words. The fragility of John's voice sobering Paul. It was remarkable how small John looked when in doubt, much more like a lost kid than a rockstar with the entire world at his feet.

"It's just..," John whispered, eyes unnaturally glassy. "..you know me. Nothing special, so-so, I thought there must be a reason for you to treat me like that. Like a nice goodbye or something."

John chuckled bitterly, playing with a loose thread from the blanket. Paul failed to see the humour of it, his mouth dry as he repeated John's words in his head...

"You are daft, Lennon, so fucking oblivious."

He didn't care about invading John's personal space or appearing like a sappy idiot as he brought John to his chest, hugging him. There was a moment when John didn't move an inch, flatly lying on Paul's body, but with each stroke across his back, each peck to his head, his arms reluctantly returned the hug.

"You know, I was thinking, there is a reason behind all of that, I mean, shouldn't we go exclusive after all that time?" 

Paul tried his best to sound like a composed adult and not like a thirteen-year-old boy asking for his first date. John craned his neck, wide eyes gazing into Paul's, a wrinkle furrowing the skin between his brows.

"Exclusive? Like-?"

"Like just us, officially, y'know, dates, kisses, lots of music and, ehm, maybe living together?"

John stared at him. And started. Then very slowly nodded, burying face into Paul's neck.

"Sounds nice."

Paul felt light. He knew that the conversation didn't stop there, that he could expect John trying to explain to him why it wasn't a good plan, why dating John wasn't a good plan, but he made the first step, didn't let his inner coward ignore what he had been feeling for a while, and he knew that 'sounds nice' expressed a deeper sentiment. For now, it was more than enough.

That night Paul didn't return to his bed, as per usual. Instead, he dozed off with John snuggled to his side. His own piece of art.

**Author's Note:**

> idk what to say, wrote bottom John for the first time, I'm feeling like a brand new person


End file.
